


want to dance?

by mysafeplaceishere



Series: magenta eyes [2]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Kissing, Interspecies Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it is a proven fact, you show him some love after he threatens to end the world for you, zim can and will hiss when given too much love, zim is quite worried about you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysafeplaceishere/pseuds/mysafeplaceishere
Summary: Regardless of the terrible relationship you have with your parents, you accept their invitation to a family vacation. Your distress leads you to Zim’s home to relax and tell the news of your coming leave for the weekend.Zim doesn’t take lightly to the news.
Relationships: GIR (Invader Zim) & Reader, Zim (Invader Zim)/Original Female Character(s), Zim (Invader Zim)/Reader
Series: magenta eyes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790968
Comments: 7
Kudos: 91





	want to dance?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MetalMistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetalMistress/gifts).



> Soft Zim? *rubs hands together* ohohoho you know I’m a sucker for soft Zim.
> 
> I like to think—a mere headcanon—that while Zim sucks at tuning in on his own emotions, he can reads others’ emotions pretty well. He may not realize he is sad, but one strain on someone else’s face and he can pinpoint that they are upset. 
> 
> Irkens learn fast, I suppose. 
> 
> And yes, there will be another part to this. :)

It is only for a few days, they said. Don’t be such a hermit, they had scolded you. 

You wanted to get angry at their assumption but the more you thought about it, the more you realized it to be true. 

Your parents aren’t the easiest people to get along with—especially if you have a dream to stay home and practice your talents in the safety of your room instead of a shared dorm with someone you don’t know. They shoved their opinions in your face; practically shoved them down your throat until it got difficult to breath. Even then, after having the idea of college lodged into your brain after seventeen years, you still wanted to follow your own path. 

You wanted to say they were a bit miffed at the idea, but the true reality of the situation wasn’t as relaxed as one might want it to be. Your heart to heart with them went worse than you had anticipated, and by the end of it all, you found yourself on the streets with a packed bag and no place to go. If it hadn’t been for Dib and his caring father, you have been sleeping on the streets until you could find a place of your own. 

You had wanted to be angry at your parents for disowning you the way they did but all you had felt was relief. All those fears had fell from your shoulders the moment a bag of clothes was thrown into your hands from the front porch of your childhood home. 

Over the years, though, the relief turned into hatred. You never would have thought in a million years that you would have admitted to hating your own parents, but your feelings fell into that line of bitterness and disgust. While the situation led you to the most wonderful things in your life, like falling head over heals for Zim and finding a new family in both him and the Membrane’s, the underlying hatred never burned away. 

You never contacted your parents after they threw you out. So to say you were boiling over with anger when they called to invite you on a family vacation after a year and a half of no connection didn’t even describe what you were feeling. There was no apology from either of them. All they did was call you a hermit, as you had the right to be, and demanded you join them. 

Why you reluctantly agreed? You can’t seem to find that answer in yourself, no matter how far down you dig. It might end with you clocking your mom in the jaw but at least you can demand some answers while they are stuck with you for a weekend. 

You have a lot to catch them up on, anyway. You can’t wait to relish the expressions on their faces after you tell them about how successful you have become. It may be petty but you would rather be petty and live with those mistakes rather than strangle them to death and live behind bars the rest of your life. 

A fair compromise.

You beat your knuckles against the front door to Zim’s unsettling pink house with a tired, under the breath sigh. You can hear a cheer behind the closed door—something along the lines of, “weeehoo! A visitor!” before an obnoxiously loud “COME IN,” follows after. You peek your head inside the house to see Gir bouncing up and down on the couch, hands held high above his head and humming the tune to his favorite show. A toothy smile replaces your monotone expression at how he bends over, hands on his knees, to shake his behind at the tv. 

“What you doing there, buddy?” You finally release a laugh when stepping inside, shutting the door behind you. 

“I’m dancin’!” He exclaims, still shaking what the Tallests gave him. 

You bounce over to him, eyes crinkled in delight at his random albeit cheerful attitude. No matter what mood you may be in, his crackhead energy is contagious. There was never a moment where you could be sullen or frustrated in his presence. If you’re not smiling wide, then he will make sure you are by the end of the day. 

He’s your precious baby. You knew it would be the right idea to pay a visit in such a saddened mood.

“After I go talk to Zim, I’ll come dance with you. How does that sound, little guy?” You tilt your head at him, chest blossoming with warm when he pauses to gasp up at you. 

His hands press to his face, optics big and shiny in awe. You fight down the urge to bawl like a baby when he leaps forward to cuddle you waist. 

“Oh, yes! I’ll throw the biiiiiiggest party and there will be pizza and nachos and tacos and—“

You gaze down at him with a lazy, motherly grin at he begins a long rant on how much food he will order for this supposed party of two. Maybe three, if Zim can pry himself away from work long enough to join the fun. You highly doubt he would do such a thing, but if you’re dancing the night away, he just do it as well.

You lean down and press a chaste kiss to the side of Gir’s head as he continues to talk to himself, mostly in preparation for a good bit of mother-robot son bonding time. He doesn’t notice when you slip away to the kitchen, too occupied with making future fast food orders. Before you can get all the way to the deceitful actually-a-lift-down-to-the-lair garbage can, you hear the sound of a zipper. Turning back to find Gir shimmying on his dog suit and barreling out of the front door doesn’t even faze you. 

You blink a few times, as if processing what had just happened, before shrugging your shoulders to no one in particular and stepping into the garbage can. There is no time to prepare your stomach before you’re shooting down the lift and being spat out at the end. Your stumble over your own feet trying to catch your balance. 

Zim knows how much you hate that thing. You might just have to sweet talk him into making it a bit safer.

You dust off your shirt on the way to where Zim is stationed. There are sparks from metal being cut at the other side of the lair, along with a few irritated murmurs of the Irken language. The butterflies from a new relationship—although you have been with Zim for over a year—flutter to life in your stomach when making your way over to him. 

It takes a minute or two to realize you are standing behind him. The sparks from his metal cutter dim to their death and his antennae lift from their flattened state against his skull. His hands lift to his face to strip off the welding goggles whilst spinning around on his stool to face you. 

His large, magenta colored eyes stare up at you with adoration swimming around in the brighter pink pools of his pupils. The moment for admiring you is suddenly cut short when he looks you up and down, soft expression morphing into a grimace, before speaking up. 

“What’s wrong?”

You’re taken back by that. “I—uh... what?”

He slowly blinks at you. When realizing you truly didn’t understand where his concern is coming from, he slips off his welding gloves and pulls on his regular black latex gloves with a loud pop. He stands up on his stool to match your height, hands reaching out to tenderly cradle your face. 

You continue to keep your lips sealed shut as he begins to search you over, as if checking for any injuries. His hands guide your head from side to side as he checks your neck for any bruises or scratches. You only realize what he is doing by the time he is satisfied with your unharmed skin. 

His eyelids droop with relief after seeing you aren’t wounded in any way. 

“Zim, I’m not hurt,” you hum to quell his nerves. 

His hands retract from your face to cross over his chest. He leans in close, body cocked to the side to show his disappointment. You chortle at his unintentional sass. 

“Then what’s wrong with you, my love? Why do you look so... smoopy?” He says the last part with so much contempt it takes your breath away. 

My love? He only ever uses that when he’s worried, tired or on the brink of having a mental break down from not getting enough attention. While he does seem a bit tired from working constantly, it doesn’t seem to be the reasoning behind his lovey dovey pet name for you. 

“I am— I don’t look smoopy!” You raise a hand to your chest, eyebrows raised. 

“You’re lying!”

You lean back when he points a finger in your face, eyes crinkled in knowing suspicion that you are, in fact, lying. Seeing Gir did put you in a better mood than when you had arrived but you guess it wasn’t enough to hide your inner turmoil from Zim. His sensing certain emotions needed some work at the beginning of the relationship but now, after having been thoroughly provided with a plethora of emotional experiences, he usually notices when something is off. 

Irkens learn fast, as he always reminds you. 

You avert eye contact, knowing good and well if you stare too deeply, you might melt and lose your cool. Zim doesn’t need a mess of snot and tears to take care of right now. The guy can barely take care of himself in a healthy manner, much less his girlfriend that practically towers over his 4’3 foot stature. 

“My parents called me,” you poke your forefingers together in shyness, “they demanded that I join them on a family vacation. I accepted. But I guess I don’t know what to do to make this feel okay. It isn’t. It isn’t okay at all.”

You take the risk to glance back at Zim to find that his whole face has morphed into a scowl that could scare a grown man ten times over. You wait for him to pitch a fit in your defense but he calmly sets a hand back on your cheek instead. You lean into his palm on instinct. 

“I see,” he hums, tapping his chin with his free hand.

You can see the wheels turning in his head as he thinks about what you said. A soft smile replaces your slight frown at his serious eye twitch. 

“The solution is easy,” he pulls your face in close to his, exhaling deeply, “I, the Almighty Zim, will come with you on this family vacation!”

You want to tell him that a family vacation is exactly what it sounds like, but with the uncomfortable twisting of your gut that occurs when thinking of being alone with your parents makes you a rush out a, “yes please.” before you even know it. Zim will not only hold your hand and encourage you through the weekend but also threaten to kill them if need be. You won’t let him, but the thought is still sweet. 

“Do not fret, my love. Zim will have it all taken care of. You need not to worry about those filthy, pathetic worm babies,” he waves a hand, “I will obliterate them if they upset you.”

Ah, there’s the threat you have been waiting for. 

You clamp your hands around his head and yank him forward to leave a thousand kisses over every inch of his face. While he would usually try to pull away with a series of playful insults, he stays put, tiny hands grasping the backs of your hands. He almost whines when you pull away to press your forehead to his, grinning from ear to ear. His face deepens with a deep green when you press forward to lay one last kiss right on him mouth. You press down hard to let him know you’re more than thankful, and he sighs in bliss.

“Gir and I are having a dance party up top. I think we plan on dancing the whole night away. Want to join us?” 

You pull away only slightly to take a deep breath, eyes wandering over his blush dusted face. Gosh, he is just about the cutest thing to ever exist. Large, sparkling eyes, a nice smile when he isn’t being mischievous, and the most heart melting reactions to physical touch. Not to mention how perfectly his face fits in the palms of your hands. 

His antennae flatten at the invitation. “No, I—“

“Great! Let’s not keep him waiting!” You pick up and tuck him under your arm so he can’t squirm away. 

He grunts and hisses while tug himself free from your grasp. You just bound over to the lift with a pep in your step, arm curling tight around your tiny alien boyfriend when he begins to scratch at your side with his tiny claws. It almost hurts and you’re thankful for the coverage of your shirt. 

“Put me down! I don’t want to join your stupid dance party! Zim does not dance, you poor fool!”

“What’s that? You would love to join us? How sweet of you, Zim.”


End file.
